The Art of Going Nowhere

Chapter One

The air is buzzing with emotion, truckloads of it. And although grins are plastered all over our faces, our mouths are wobbly, and eyes shiny from the impending onslaught of tears.

Names are announced, and there's a loud cheer after every call. Videos are taken, hugs imparted, and there's a sense of bittersweet happiness as we look on.

Today, we are graduates. There's nervous chatter as the ceremony comes to a close. We're never going to be here again, all five-hundred of us, in the cramped room we call our auditorium. There will be no more squeezing in five people in seats of three, all-nighters induced due to our very own doing, fighting with professors to turn the air conditioning on when the oppressive summer of Mumbai sets in, and no more skipping lectures to organize our never-ending fests. The end as we know it.

After the last (which was probably ten more times after the first last) group pictures are taken, a surreal energy sets in as we all discuss what's now the looming, unavoidable question: what are we doing next?

Alia, my closest friend from the brood, is all set to follow our fearless leader's (Beyoncé, who else?) order- run the world. "Work starts the day after. I can't wait! Mia, you have to help me pick out a proper first-day outfit. Work your magic on me," she says, poking me in the ribs.

Hah, she doesn't need my magic, not even a speck of it. She's one of the most confident girls I know, and she knows she's going to rock it. But there's something else about what she says that makes my head swivel in shock.

My mouth hangs open. "Already? We literally graduated today!"

"And that makes me late, by three years! Everyone's been interning since college began, they already have a head start. We have to start now if we ever want to catch up." Everyone nods, like this is exactly what they've been thinking.

As it turns out, Alia's not the only one wanting to rule the world. There's a huge crowd fighting for the crown. Everyone, in our group of six, has their shit figured out apparently. Everyone, except me.

My voice comes out a little too shrill and accusatory then I'd like, as I hear myself going- "But all of you said that you're kind of lost and undecided. We spoke about this last week. When did this happen?" My friends, not the least bit embarrassed, just shrug.

"We're still confused," Malvika turns to say, "but backups are a good thing to have. It'll help us get to the final goal."

My head is swiveling as my friends continue to talk, all cool and collected. Words like bonus, package, are carelessly strewn into the conversation. I'm poked in the ribs again (21st-century greetings are destructive). It's Rahul, the most laid-back person in my group.

"Why do you look so lost?", he grins, "that's my job, you overachiever." I look at him, hoping to see similar anxious eyes looking back at me, but he looks serene.

"I don't have anything figured out. I thought that's what summer was for. Having the last hurrah and then trying to start acting like a sensible adult. I guess the bus left without me." I pout.

"I bet that's not true! And even if it is, I wouldn't bat an eyelid if I were you. You've done enough in college to land yourself a good job. Let's enjoy being graduates for now."

He's right, I think. I did do a lot in college, which is why I'm in a soup now. My teacher's, earlier in the morning, had hounded me, asking all about my future plans with wide, beaming smiles. All I had as an answer was, "I'm still considering a lot of opportunities right now," with an ambiguous smile.

It wasn't that I wanted to lie. I just didn't want to hurt them. After being an active participant in all the extracurriculars, and the class representative for my grade, I'd bonded well with all of them. Occasionally, I'd get career advice from the wise ones and the usual, 'oh how lovely it is to be young and free!' Except, were we even free anymore?

"Let's go," I grin at him, "it's time for the last hurrah."

My feeling of confusion and dread is tucked away at the back of my brain, to be opened and nit-picked in solitude.

We start to walk out of what's known to be the most prestigious college of our city-a tiny dilapidated building held together only by triumphs of its predecessors and the hopes of its successors. Arm in arm, we nod and smile at our peers, and pass the gang of first-year students, excited about planning their first college fest. Oh, what it's like to be young and free!

Alia looks at me and squeezes my hand.

"It's not the last time," I tell her, "I've already told professor Razee to look out for us in the corridors now and then. We'll be right there, hanging banners about the events to come and begging juniors to participate."

"Exactly," she giggles. "Not to forget the Aloo crispy at the canteen."

"That's a taken," I say, as I roll my eyes. In the last three years, our primary form of sustenance was Raju's aloo crispy and samosa toast. Some things taste better every time you try them, and if this doesn't fit the bill, I don't know what will.

The last hurrah is as fun as it can be. We're all splayed out across Rahul's terrace, perfectly cozy under the night sky. There are no stars, as can be expected given the Mumbai whether, but being surrounded by your best friends makes up for these shortcomings. This is what I'll miss, I think to myself. So many nights have been spent exactly like this. We all start with a game of charades, that quickly escalates to a game of beer pong. Uncoordinated dancing comes next, followed by conversations no one can recollect the next morning.

Malvika, Nikhil and I are sitting in our regular corner after we've tucked in all our drunk and groggy friends to bed. Soft music plays in the background, as we're all lost thoughts, sporadically talking about our favorite college memories.

Nikhil scoots closer. " I hear that while we're all slaving away at our 9 to 5, you're going to be swimming in the blue waters in Goa?"

"You're right," I exclaim, in a happy buzz.

"Two whole months?" his tone now sounds condescending. "I wish I could take a week away from this grind."

"If you wanted to, you can". My voice is sharp now, bordering on defensive.

"Some of us have goals to conquer, I guess." He says. Drunk Nikhil sucks.

"Break it up guys, one more game of Uno?" Malvika butts in. She rolls her eyes at Nikhil and mouths a 'chuck him'.

"Let's", I say, in an overly cheerful tone. Anything to break the tension. But even two rounds in, my mind keeps replaying those sharp and biting words. Am I throwing it all away?